


The Golden Ghost

by Tsume_Yuki



Series: RamenSpots [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: But At Least He's Cute About It, F/M, Female Uzumaki Naruto, Madara's Hopeless, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:44:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4777430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsume_Yuki/pseuds/Tsume_Yuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five times Madara met the Golden Ghost, and one time he met Naruto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First

 

The first time news reaches them, Madara has just seen the passing of his sixteenth birthday, and is nursing the consequences.

A man now.

Well, the civilians think so.

The sound of his cousins snickering in his ears follows him as Madara makes his way to the innermost room of their compound, his head threatening to split open at the seams and send his brain swilling from his ears.

Those _precious_ older cousins had taken him out on the town that night; he woke up butt naked before the compound entrance, a bottle cradled under one arm, dead chicken in the other and with a breath that smelt of a brewery.

He still can't remember what happened last night, it all gets fuzzy after the second tankard. He remembers Shuji ebbing him on to down that second drink -the bastard- and Yosai laughing in the background.

He remembers watching the waitresses go by, their eyes cautious as they land on their male forms. Men are big enough threats for civilian girls, but ninja were the worst. In their eyes of course.

Uchihas aren't like the other low life clans. They couldn’t afford any bastard children, not one's they couldn't keep track of. It'd only take one Uchiha born on the wrong side of the bed, one Uchiha to slip through the cracks, and if they got picked up by another clan- game over. No one could know how the Sharingan worked.

No one but the clan using it anyway.

Which meant that all Uchiha men had to be careful. The women, well, obviously it wasn't encouraged, but they lived in the compound; pregnancy was pretty damn easy to notice when you saw one another on a daily basis.

No, the Uchihas could not afford any bastard children.

Which was why Madara was, well, not quite worried over his missing memories, but maybe a bit uneased.

 

He walks on silent steps into the hall his father often holds court in, and almost does a double take upon noticing the numbers.

His head is still threatening to split open, and he worries for a second that such a thing is just about to happen when the pain increases threefold.

Luckily enough, Izuna is on hand to pull him over to a quiet corner, his younger brother's lower lip working back and forth between his teeth as his eyes dart over their many clansmen.

Dear lord, there had to be every active ninja present here that wasn't already out on a mission. Hell, he could even spot the three elders -the three Uchiha that had the skill and power to make it to such an elderly age- crowding his father and muttering harshly beneath their breaths.

"Izuna, what's going on?"

Talking hurts.

Groaning, Madara presses the plump flesh of his palms into the sockets of his eyes, praying feverishly that the pressure would lessen the pain. It doesn't make the slightest bit of difference.

"I don't know," Izuna, bless his heart, gets the unspoken message to be as near-silent as possible, "Tou-san just called everybody here."

Whatever had happened, it had to be big for everyone to have been called in.

Eyes narrowing, Madara forces himself to stand tall and straight at the back of the crowd when their father steps forwards, glorious silence falling across the hall. Then, his father begins to speak.

"Three hours ago, I received information on a new threat- no, there is no potential about it," he snapped when one of the elder's goes to open their mouths, "there is no way this ninja is not a threat. Kei, step forwards."

Kei does step forwards, of course he does. Nobody disagrees with the clan head.

Madara watches in fascination as the man brings his hands together and performs a henge, leaving a small blond boy in his place, no taller than Tajima's shoulder.

Bright blue eyes, face devoured of the masculine jaw that puberty would bring, but Madara swears he's seen those features before. It's a niggling feeling at the back of his mind, like an insect fluttering against skin.

"This, is our best estimation at the face of the 'Golden Ghost'. This _boy_ ," Tajima spits the word as if it were a curse, "stopped the Kyūbi from attacking a village not a day's travel from here by sealing it into his own body. This happened two months ago, and this is the first we have heard of it. I am sure at least one of you has seen a golden flash in the last two months? Well, understand this. I want this boy's head. The one to bring it to me, will go down in history as the slayer of the Nine Tailed Fox."

No one dares to speak, and Madara cannot blame them.

He's a little preoccupied though, because he remembers where he's seen that face before.

It is not a boy's face at all, but that of a young woman.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Shuji's laughing as he coughs over the last of the second tankard, the unfamiliar liquid burning his throat on the way down. But, Madara supposes, that's what liquor was. A flame-like substance to burn away a lifetime of memories, for those who hit it hard enough._

 

 

_He's onto his fifth drink when he notices that, while he's not alone, his previous company has long since abandoned him for the brigade of pretty girls that've just come into the bar._

_Instead, a tanned blonde girl is sat at the table with him, though if it weren't for her female clothes he'd have mistaken her for a young boy. Well, if she bound that chest anyway._

_"You look a little young to be drinking," she murmurs, as if she herself doesn't look like a twelve year old bratling come to try his luck with the pretty ladies._

_But something in her eyes has Madara forcing himself to focus through the haze of liquor, to not lose track of this woman. Even under the thrall of his first bout with intoxication, his instincts treat him well._

_"I'm sixteen," he grumbles, just a bit on the defensive side, especially at the twitch of her woman's lips, "I'm old enough. Question is, are you?"_

_She laughs at that, and nothing like the rattling little giggles the painted girls give. No, this is a full belly, deeply amused, laugh._

_Only the strong laugh that loud, a small voice reminds Madara, and he carefully sets down his tankard, noting that it's once again empty._

_"I'm seventeen, have been since October," the girl admits with a carefree ease, waving away his question with one dainty hand. It's smaller than his, but there's the lightest scattering of scars around her fingertips._

_Kunai scars._

_As if she's practiced until her hands have bled raw, until the edge of the steel had bit further into her palm than was reasonable._

_As if she'd followed the training regime of a ninja_ _._

_"When I came over to talk to you, I don't know what I was expecting," the girl once again addresses him, her blue eyes wide but eyebrows furrowed, almost as if she's confused. Over what, Madara cannot even begin to guess, nor does he care to._

_"But you're just like everyone else."_

_She gets to her feet while his brain is trying to process this statement, wondering if it was a taunt, a statement or an insult._

_His eyes go wide when she ruffles his hair, grinning down at him and Madara flushes upon realizing his face is at level with her breasts._

_"See you around, Madara."_

 

 

 

He never told that woman his name. This woman that apparently housed the Kyūbi within her body.

If they were to cut her down, the beast would be dead, now that it was trapped within human form.

Madara knew two things for certain though.

One, he would be seeing the woman again, she had promised him as much.

And two?

He wouldn't have his brain dribbling out of his ears as a result of drinking far too much alcohol.

No, next time, he would be on top of his game when they came face to face.

 

 

And then, he'd run her through, Nine Tailed Fox an all.

 


	2. Second

The second time Madara sees her, it's six months later and summer has taken a hold of the land.

He's in the middle of a mission, sent to retrieve a scroll from a small town on the border of the Land of Fire. The only reason he of all people in the clan has been sent out is because there is a rumour that Senju have been hired.

Even now, years later, his gut twists up a bit at the idea of it being Hashirama he is to face in battle again. Though it has happened a handful of times, there is never a significant gap in skills, neither of them having more power than the other, neither willing to submit. Neither able to defeat the other.

Yet, he worries.

What if this is the time he doesn't come back? What if he leaves Izuna all alone, at the mercy of the Senju, because Hashirama put in a bit more training than he did? What if all his practicing, all his fighting and sparring and training, wasn't enough to keep him alive?

But each time, the thought of protecting his brother pulls him through.

 

 

 

Thankfully, it is not Hashirama he greets in battle this time.

He's a little less grateful to realize it's three A-rank Senjus though.

An A-ranked ninja on his own, Madara could have taken them, if they'd had the decency to not gang up on him that was.

Instead, he finds himself doubling back, trying to find a way to pluck them off one by one so he could make another attempt for the scroll without these idiots in the way.

Sadly, they know the steps of this dance, and they start to close in.

That's when he bursts through the treetops into a small clearing, in which a beautiful river is running straight down the middle.

And the Golden Ghost is sat atop the water.

All four of them skid to a halt at the very sight of her, sat neatly on the water in nothing but a pair of skin tight black pants that only reach halfway down her thighs, and bandages that service to keep her chest covered. Were it not for the fact he was currently fighting -not running, a strategic retreat- three A-ranked Senju, he'd probably be as red as a tomato to see a woman in such a state of undress.

Before any of them can make a move though, before even the girl can make a move, a furry head, a head as big as the girl's torso, surfaces from the river. Followed by a body.

And nine swishing tails.

Madara feels his stomach drop out from under him.

That shouldn't be possible.

The girl had pulled the Nine Tails into her body, what was it doing outside of it? And so small?

Behind him, he can feel the Senju freeze too, clearly realizing what situation they were in.

Even if they hadn't recognised the woman as the Golden Ghost, they surely had to recognise the great danger before them.

None had stepped before the path of a Bijū and lived, such was their power. They were terrifying creatures, ferocious and vile and saw no problem with wiping out human settlement after human settlement.

As those blood red eyes pass over the Senju and lock onto Madara, the Uchiha heir gathers that this was how a civilian felt beneath the gaze of an S-ranked ninja.

Like prey.

Just when he feels that his time was up, that he really was gonna leave Izuna alone as the last surviving brother, a dainty hand reaches across and _whaps_ the most fearsome creature in existence across the nose.

"Kurama, be nice. Madara's a friend."

He can almost feel the moment the three Senju connect the dots, looking at each other and desperately hoping they weren't actually sure of their names, and that one of them was in fact a 'Madara'.

The demon fox snarls, all nine tails sinisterly curling around it's body and the Senju flee like rabbits.

Madara would have liked to watch them depart, to feel smug, but he's much more occupied by the being that could erase his existence. The being that has yet to stop growling at him.

And just like that, the Golden Ghost flicks the nose of the most feared Bijū in the land, an action that has the fox recoiling.

It was the most absurd sight he'd ever seen, the fox had to be at least seven foot tall if it were to stand on its hind legs. Yet, it didn't rip the girl's head from her shoulders.

" **I will rip out your entrails, brat!** "

The booming voice echoes around the clearing, and in his terror over the beast actually speaking, all Madara can consider is if the Senju happened to have stuck around to watch the show, he wouldn't doubt that they are fleeing right now.

"But who will brave your temper for those belly rubs then?"

Before his very eyes, Madara can only watch in horror as the girl tackles the beast, tumbling across the river's surface and onto the earth, boxing back the killer tails.

No, wait-

There was no killer intent. Only…

Joy.

Their movements were playful, the fox snapping it's teeth in the girl's face and she fearlessly returned the gesture, fingers digging into the fox's stomach and rubbing back and forth until the orange furball dissolved beneath her touch.

"Everything okay?" The Ghost asks, head cocked to one side and Madara tenses as the fox growls.

Even when the girl beats the sound down with another good belly rub -a belly rub!- he can't shake the fear, the adrenaline, coursing through his veins.

However, before he can worry about what he has to do -he can't kill the girl now. He's only sixteen, only has nine years of battle experience, he's no match for a free Bijū and whatever this woman is- the girl decides his course of action for him.

"The Senju ran that way," the girl muses, pointing in the opposite direction to the town he'd been heading to, other hand now stroking the fox's long ears, "so I think you'll be okay to head back."

He needs to get stronger, he can't have this woman catching him flatfooted him again. Just because she let him go today, doesn't mean she won't go for the kill the next time they meet.

She, who has the apparent loyalty of the most destructive force in existence, is more of a terrible danger than his father had first taken her for.

So, he forces himself to nod, to offer his none verbal thanks, slowly backing out of the clearing and keeping her in sight at all times.

The fox huffs a dark laugh at him, the sound almost muffled by the way the girl stretches back to rest against its large rib cage.

Despite himself, Madara can't help but trace the curve of her breasts with his gaze, the sharp edges of her abdominal muscles and the swell of her hips that disappear beneath the tight black fabric of her shorts, and he finds his face heating up  regardless of his desires to remain unaffected.

She is the most dangerous thing he's ever come across, but a part of him calls out, dares to want, to lust after the idea of making her his.

Because that's what she is; the walking contradiction.

She is a woman, and women are to be submissive, to bow before the will of the husband and aid him through her life.

But she is also a ninja, he sees that now, and she is the most powerful ninja he has ever come across.

Now that he is free of his drunken state, he can recognise the heavy thrum of her chakra in the air, pure and human, brushing up against the thick malice that is the trickle of chakra the Kyūbi's allows to saturate the clearing.

The woman has noticed his stare, of course she has, but instead of blushing, of raging like any other woman would, she winks at him with a grin.

 

As his face burns and he turns to flee into the undergrowth, to finish his mission now that the obstacles are absent, her roaring laughter consonates with the Kyūbi's in his ears.


	3. Third

Another year passes, and Madara finds himself seventeen and a half years old, with nothing but the tireless stretch of war before him.

The battles with the Senju have been heating up, getting bloodier and bloodier. It's probably only a matter of time before Madara once again finds himself stood across from Hashirama, putting his life on the line to ensure that Izuna, that the Uchiha, live on to the next day.

The scars on his skin are steadily growing in number and size, though the severity of them fluctuates. There's not really been a life threatening one since his fifteenth year, so perhaps he is due another one soon. It's the way of the world, making sure there is a balance.

He'd rather there be a balance than a sudden canyon of loss should he die.

Letting out a lone sigh, Madara tips his head back, looking over at his younger brother.

At fifteen years old, Izuna is closing in on reaching the official age of adulthood, being only a year off of his sixteenth.

Madara fully intends to join his cousins when they drag Izuna to town, and he will be the one laughing this time when Izuna drinks himself stupid.

Only, he'll be keeping a better eye on the boy than his cousins did him.

Otherwise they'd have noticed the woman, the Golden Ghost, when she spoke to him. Then the clan would have a lead on the woman.

Not that Madara had actually said he'd met her in the bar that night.

He had reported the river incident as their first meeting, reported her apparent power over the Bijū. Their father had been, concerned, to say the least.

"Brother, what is our mission?"

Pausing to look over at Izuna, Madara draws the scroll out from his pocket, flicking it open to inspect the instructions upon it.

His heart sinks within his chest at the words.

They are to murder near one hundred people, almost all the adult population of their targeted town, as they failed to supply the necessary funds to the local Lord.

It's this kinds of jobs that he hates, he hates to think of how many children he will be leaving orphaned tonight.

It's these kinds of jobs that have him longing for that long ago, ill-forgotten dream he once shared with Hashirama. If they had banded together, if such a thing had been possible, then they could refuse missions like this. They would have the power to protect other children, where they themselves had been failed.

But that was a pipe dream at best, and would forever remain that way.

"Assassination," Madara says in a low, emotionless tone, "showy assassination."

Izuna's face is grim, as Madara knows that his brother too, finds this type of mission as unsavoury as he himself does.

To assassinate someone is one thing, to deliberately parade it around in order to snuff the fight out of others was a whole other scroll of kunai.

But, a mission was a mission, and with the way things were with the Senju right now, they couldn't afford to turn such a high paying job down, not when word would spread that the Uchihas were getting more uppity than should be allowed. Then even more jobs would go to the Senju, and every bone, in every Uchiha body, was against that.

"Come along, Izuna."

"Hai, Nii-san."

 

 

 

Usually jobs against civilians like this are easy. Unless they have the money to buy protection, to buy impressive protection, these types of missions are usually a straight up job.

Walk in, kill the relevant people, make a bit of a show of it, walk out.

That was the plan.

That had been the plan.

Madara had been ready for almost anything, perhaps a Sarutobi guard, maybe even a Senju guard for the village, if they could scrape enough money together.

What he hadn't been ready for, was a familiar flash of gold under the moonlight, a gleam so white it left her hair as honeyed milk.

Cerulean blue flash dangerously in the dark of the night and Madara rapidly halts their approach, one arm out to prevent Izuna to wandering any closer.

He doesn't recognise the danger for what it is, not yet.

Though she's a scant year older than him -a year and several months, she turns nineteen this year, before he turns eighteen, he remembers that- the gap in their power is immense.

He can feel it even now, now that he knows what to look for. And she isn't even broadcasting it.

"Madara," she speaks slowly, as if he could have possible forgotten her in the year that has passed between their last meeting.

Her hair is longer now, long enough that she can gather it up into a tiny little ponytail at the top of her skull, the bangs hanging free to frame her whisker scarred cheeks.

Without the wild, male style to her locks, it's obvious that she's female now, as if the curves of her body -she's not hiding them now, he blatantly observes- didn't indicate that enough already.

"Is that your brother?"

Every protective instinct in him roars to life all at once, his body moving until he is a solid wall of flesh between his brother and the woman who makes him seem so fragile. She seems to realise exactly how much of a threat that sounded, because she rubs gingerly at the back of her head, almost dislodging what was probably a painstakingly long effort to get her short hair tied back.

"Geez, sorry. Didn't mean it like that."

Slowly, the Golden Ghost stretches her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles and leaning back on the rock she is perched atop.

Beneath the moonlight, and with her carefree attitude, she's unearthly. Certainly no other woman would have dared to speak with him like that.

But, she is no ordinary woman after all.

"Brother?" Izuna asks quietly, cautious as he senses the tension that coils heavy in the air, weighing down upon their shoulders.

Not the woman's though, she looks so unburdened that perhaps she could fly away. He wishes that were so.

"I'm only gonna say this once," and suddenly, she is deadly serious, and a killer intent unlike anything he's ever felt before, threads through the air like ozone. Thick and promising as much danger and death as the lightning it precedes.

Izuna's whimper is audible to the both of them, and it takes everything Madara has to not tremble.

"This town has asked for my protection," the woman continues, her face cold, "and my protection it shall have."

And while her face is emotionless, her eyes beg him not to push her.

This is greater than Hashirama, this is a fight he won't come out of alive. But he needs to try, for the clan.

 

 

 

It's over in a minute.

He doesn't even get time to really pull any of his big jutsus out of the bag, to use his aces up his sleeve.

He sees now, why they call her the Golden Ghost.

The second it became clear he had no intention of turning away with his tail between his legs, the woman had sighed, got to her feet, and then, she'd glowed.

A halo of golden, flame like chakra had surrounded her form, and she'd been merciless in her attack, relentless.

He'd barely gotten time to throw Izuna out of the fight before she was upon him.

And now here he lay, his limbs trembling from the close proximity of her chakra, his Sharingan eyes wide as they stared up into the blue that hovers above them.

No matter how many genjutsus he tried to ensnare her in, he could all but feel the Kyūbi, the fox that did indeed live within her, break them before they could even take hold.

He was beaten, beaten in a manner that seemed as if she hadn't even had to try.

As if the dance they're shared, even as short a two-step as it was, had been nothing more than a motion to her.

No improvisation needed.

Not even a deviation from the steps.

He'd been soundly bested.

Still, even laid beneath her, his hands trapped above his head in one glowing claw like limb that sprouted from her chakra shroud, he could feel his traitorous heart beating fast.

The betrayal of his nose as it registered how pleasant she smelt, not of blood, metal and death, but of warmth, of the forest and of miso.

She smelt like a woman should, and it was the greatest deception of them all.

"Brother!"

Izuna's distressed call was forceful enough to break his mind from its captivity, and Madara forcibly slowed his chest's rapid rise and fall.

The way she has pinned him was no help at all, one hand with a kunai to his neck and her ankles resting alongside his thighs, while her own entrap his waist.

She was too close, too unpredictable to be allowed so close.

But he couldn't overpower her.

"I'm not going to kill you," she breathes, and the scent of her breath -ramen?- left the words hazy in his mind.

"But leave the town alone. Okay?"

He doesn't register that his eyes have slid shut in anticipation -of what, he didn't know- until they shoot open at the slightest brush of lips against his cheek -more the corner of his mouth really, a kiss but not quite- only to find himself back in the river clearing from the previous year, Izuna stumbling alongside him.

There is no sign of the girl, only a modified kunai with a strange Fūinjutsu marking upon it.

He picks it up, cautious of the unfamiliar markings but determined to take the strange clue back to the clan.

Izuna is shaking beside him, the near death -not near death, she could have killed them and they wouldn't have been able to stop it- hitting him at full force.

Madara himself staggers slightly, before straightening himself.

"Izuna?"

He doesn't need to say another word, his brother huddles into his arms without another prompt.

Mission failure.

But at least they're still alive.


	4. Fourth

It's during another battle against the Senju that it happens.

They’ve been neck deep in fights with the other clan for the past year, and things have only gotten worse and worse as the months have passed by. Each time he finds Hashirama stood on the other side of the battlefield, dark eyes as hard and resolved as his own.

At least he's grown out that ridiculous haircut, Madara thinks as they collide once again, sword against sword, a shower of sparks following each kiss of the metal.

All around them Senju and Uchiha are clashing, though they waited for Hashirama and him to greet one another first. Not the greetings they shared as children, but swings from swords now, the bite of weapons thrown against one another.

This is the language they speak now, there is no place for dreams and wishes on the battlefield, and Madara accepts that with a heavy heart.

It's not even a minute later when it happens.

He can see the Senju swine, can track his approach towards Izuna, can see the sword flashing beneath the burning sun.

And he knows.

He knows it's going to be buried deep within Izuna's vitals and he has his hands full keeping Hashirama back. He's not going to make it in time.

But, before he can open his mouth, before he can scream his denial over becoming the sole Uchiha brother, the last one -of god, he doesn't want to be the last one, do not let Izuna leave him, please- there's a flash of gold.

He can barely believe his eyes, but the woman who was his enemy on their last meeting two years ago, has pushed Izuna aside and now has Senju Tobirama's blade sticking out from her back.

Most of the fighting stops, all turning to stare in horror at the arrival of a woman who has become the ninja version of the civilian's bogyman monster. The being that hides in the shadows and steals children away in the middle of the night, be in their bodies or their lives.

Only, she doesn't do that, there are stories far and few between of her actually killing.

The Golden Ghost has more of a reputation for mercy, for leaving her enemies unconscious but alive.

She makes no sense.

Her glowing hands are wrapped around the sword's sharp blade, thick crimson blood -she bleeds red, just like them- dripping between her clenched fingers, but her head is angled back towards Izuna.

And she smiles at him.

"Okay there, Izuna?"

He had no idea how she could possibly know his brother's name, but he is ever so thankful. He can see the moment it registers in Hashirama's eyes who his brother has just stumbled into attacking, because the Senju has never disengaged with Madara quicker.

At the same time, Madara's Sharingan catches the way the woman steps back and off Tobirama's sword, the wound sizzling and sealing itself shut in a worrisome show of power. But, but it appears as if she is on their side.

Maybe this won't be the defeat he was expecting.

Only, the girl does not turn on her attacker, she doesn't even seem to pay him any more attention as Hashirama approaches to extract his brother.

Clearly the Senju heir is prepared for violence, because he seems as shocked as all those around him when the Golden Ghost just steps aside, the chakra for which she is named fizzling out of existence, like a damp sparkler.

Instead she's just the young woman he met at a bar, her blonde hair long now, falling down her shoulders in a mockery of both his own and Hashirama's style.

The whisker like scars that remain on her cheek seem to stump the people around them, almost as much as the fact that the Golden Ghost is certainly a woman.

He told his father, he told the rest of the clan, but apparently, the had never bothered to believe him. Women were the last line of defence in traditional clans, they were the shield between the babies and the enemy.

No clan he could think of off the top of his head would ever train a woman for combat.

Never mind frontline combat, like what the blonde seems to specialize in.

Amongst all the dark heads of hair, the browns and black and the greys and whites of the two clans, her blonde hair is like a beacon of difference. Startling and completely impractical for a ninja.

She should dye it. Any other reasonable person would.

"Hashirama," she speaks slowly, much like she did to him the last time they met, and Madara watches as his once friend and now rival tenses, looking over at the woman with clear caution in his eyes. Madara knows that look, no doubt he wore that look the last time he faced down the woman.

It was the look of a ninja who knew they were beat. Who knew they couldn’t win this fight, not on their own. The Golden Ghost cut a terrible figure across the lands, frightening. Her skills as one of them were fearful enough, but the very fact she housed the greatest weapon of all, that was what truly had them all quaking before her.

Yet, she has never turned the fox upon anyone, not that he had heard at least. And there would be stories if such a thing happened.

"Remember what I said to you."

Something crosses Hashirama's face, a look that seems to suggest he's, disappointed. Not in what has happened, not in the fact this woman stands across from him with hard, sad eyes.

But more like he was disappointed with himself.

"Of course," Hashirama murmured, throwing his brother's arm up and over his armoured shoulders, despite the white haired man's protests.

So, Hashirama has met with her before too?

Anger curls about within his gut, though it had been stupid to assume it was only ever him she'd spoken to. They went months, years, between meetings. The girl off, doing whatever it was she spent her time on.

Of course she'd ran into Hashirama before, he was so high profile, the heir of the Senju clan, that it was probably unavoidable for her.

But like him, Hashirama has faced defeat in the girl.

And like him, he'd been spared by her too.

Had she also not-quite-kissed him?

Madara doesn't think so.

He doesn't look at the woman the way he does, Hashirama looks at her with the same sad eyes he'd once looked at Madara with, when they'd blocked a kill shot at their brothers and parted ways over a river.

Not a second later, Hashirama is calling for the Senju to retreat, and Madara catches the man's father glaring holes in his heir's head.

"You fight with us?" Izuna asks quietly, cautiously. Madara himself is interested in the answer, wants to hear the words of the woman who saved his brother's life.

She just looks back and them both, a smile on her face, though she does give them an answer before she disappears in a flash of gold.

It's an answer that keeps Madara awake for weeks, puzzling over her possible reasons, over what drives her.

"I fight for peace, for a world where people don't have to die for grudges. I just want everyone to get along, 'ttebayo." 


	5. Fifth

Oddly enough, it's only a month later when he runs into her again. And this time, he comes across a sight that's life altering with what it shows him. That even the strongest person can be forced to bow before another if they're smart enough about it, if they play the right card.

If they threaten the right thing.

He'd cautiously approached a massive flare of chakra, already recognising the aura that permits the air and found himself silently wondering what would push the Golden Ghost into using the chakra of the beast she possesses.

What he sees, slams into him with the force of Hashirama's favoured wooden dragon jutsu.

The woman is pinned to the ground, golden chakra chains that are a signature of the Uzumaki wrapped around her body and two spikes impaling her hands, preventing any jutsus. But clearly, that is not the cause of the Golden Ghost's worries.

Her head is turned to a side towards the beastly Bijū beside her, the same size as when Madara last met it. It too was pinned down, chained stakes in each of its tails and the heavy chakra links pressing its body flat to the floor.

They're both pinned, both trapped, and seemingly, with no way out.

Even from across the clearing, Madara picks out the desperation in the blonde's eyes, not to save herself, but to get the fox free. To get it away from the people hurting the both of them, and she reaches for him with such power another Uzumaki is called in to reinforce the chains holding her down.

There are at least nine of them, with a woman that Madara recognises as Uzumaki Mito sat preparing a seal. It only takes him a second to tune in to what the elderly Uzumaki is saying, and it feels like his insides have frozen when he hears.

They are going to rip the Kyūbi out of the woman and seal it within Mito, an action which will surely kill the Golden Ghost.

But she does not quake in fear of her death.

Instead, she snarls at the Uzumaki head, snarls that Kurama is her friend, he is not a weapon to be used but her most trusted ally.

Of course, her voice is almost drowned by the fox's threats. He's just as vicious in his desires to escape, blood red eyes constantly shooting towards the woman, his container, with clear concern in his eyes.

And that's all it takes for Madara to realize the Bijū isn't heartless, that it actually cares, quite deeply, for the woman pinned down beside him. That, despite their obvious differences, they are as close as siblings can be.

He doesn't even realize he's moving until his blade is already cutting through the back of one of the Uzumaki pinning the female.

The Uzumaki don’t realize what's happening until he is severing the head of the second one he comes into contact with.

Now, with only one supporting the chains that binds her, the woman is up on her feet in a flash of gold.

And it's like watching vengeance in human form, even if she never strikes a death blow.

For all the fox threatened to wipe the Uzumaki clan from the face of the earth, it appears as if it will be the woman who does that, with her eyes the same blood red, with the same thin pupil, as the creature she defends.

Madara doesn't even have to do anything, only stand back and watch in awe as the blonde goes against the Uzumaki clan head, goes against him and wins. Because it is not her life on the line, but the life of someone she clearly holds precious.

Even if it is a giant, demon fox.

The demon is quiet as it watches all that goes on around it, only moving to untangle itself from the slack chains that remain, despite the Uzumakis unconscious state.

The woman has knocked out the clan head now, and is just stood above him, staring down with an expression on her face that he cannot read.

The fox approaches her slowly, laying one large tail across her shoulders before he disappears, returning to the safety of the seal in which it now lives.

How the Uzumaki managed to tease it out in order to pin it down, Madara does not know. He does not care to figure out, though he guesses that the woman will never again fall for whatever trap they'd caught her in.

It's only when she looks to the east that he sees the small footsteps. Children's footsteps. They drew her out using children as bait, perhaps children from a nearby village.

Not an unusual tactic, a surprising amount of shinobi were soft hearted when it came to children, a result of growing up in a world where so many were killed daily.

If there was a chance to save children without any risk, then Madara knew he himself would take it. Clearly, the Golden Ghost was cut from the same cloth if this was how the Uzumaki had tricked her.

"I was expecting more of them," she spoke quietly, nudging the unconscious form of the clan head with her foot.

Her face is sad, and Madara can't understand why she would say that. Why she would think such a thing. The Uzumaki are a ninja clan, and while usually a bit more removed from the Land of Fire, that doesn't mean they are innocent. They are as ruthless as the world they live in, though why the woman hadn't picked up on that, Madara isn't sure.

"I was just, I thought they'd be like me. That they'd be pushing for peace and understanding… My mother was an Uzumaki," she gives the last statement as if it is an explanation for her thought process.

Looking at her sharp face, her colouring, Madara can only pick out the shape of her eyes for a feature that somewhat resembles an Uzumaki.

Evidentially, she takes after her non Uzumaki father. It was so obvious she wasn't a full blood Uzumaki, and the Uzumaki didn't allow anyone to marry outside the clan. Like all ninja clans, they rather liked keeping their bloodlines away from the rabble.

Which means that perhaps, the Golden Ghost's mother was a runaway. Trying to picture such an existence, such a way of growing up, Madara grimaces. It does not sound like a fun childhood.

And that was if her mother managed to outlast the hunters that would have been sent after her.

"Why do you fight for peace?" Madara asks, cleaning the blood from his sword and sheathing it. He's taken to carrying it around far less than he once did, now favouring a gunbai.

"Because I've seen war," the woman, the half Uzumaki, answers, looking up into the dying sky with eyes darker than he'd ever seen them before, the blue almost lost to the shadows of dusk. "I've seen families torn apart and I've seen people kicked when they're down. I've been kicked when I was down. But if you don't get up and keep fighting for it, you don't get to make the world a better place. I don't want anyone to go through what I have. And that's why Kurama works with me. Because he too wants to see peace."

She grins then, much happier than her words had just been, and her face is clear of any of the tears he'd expected to see.

"But that's a story for another time. Thanks for the help Madara, having to stay still to gather up enough Senjutsu would have been irritating."

 

She's gone.

 

Madara stares bewildered, at the spot she's just left, before a half crazed laugh leaves from between his lips.

She hadn't been in trouble at all.

She'd been testing the Uzumaki, pushing them to see if they held up to her expectations or not.

They hadn't, that much was obvious.

Shaking his head in blatant disbelief over the woman that made no sense what so ever, Madara turns to head back to the undergrowth, head spinning.

The woman chases after peace for the same reason he himself desired it from such a young age.

Hell, even the greatest of the Bijū wishes for peace according to that woman.

Perhaps, perhaps it was time to talk once more with Hashirama.

 

Just one more try.

 

One more time. 


	6. Last

"What are you doing here?" Stood within the skeleton of the village, the skeleton of their dream, Madara gapes, not unlike his friend turned rival turned friend, at the figure before them.

The Golden Ghost is stood with a thick scroll tied to her waist, so that it rests in the shallow curve of her back, her bright blue eyes blinking slowly before she offers a light grin.

"I'm here to join your village."

She has clearly faced no dire hardship since he last saw her two and a half years ago, willingly pinned down by the Uzumaki. For a moment, he considers how Uzumaki Mito, now Senju Mito, is going to react to the woman being here.

A thick red scarf is wrapped around her neck and shoulders, and she looks just a little bit strange with her head of blonde hair poking up from its fluffy walls. A dull white cloak covers her body, offering it a buffer from the winter chill, as the slightest droplets of snow come to settle within her hair, on the tip of her tanned nose.

She doesn't look like the legend that has been saving lives across the Elemental Nations. She just looks like another young woman, with bright blonde hair and equally vibrant blue eyes, only made brighter by her tanned skin.

The strange, whisker like scars draw attention to the sharp angle of her jawline, though half is hidden by her scarf. It doesn't quite cover the smile that's almost timid, certainly hopeful, as she looks up at him from beneath her lashes.

Madara folds his arms, looking sternly over at Hashirama, even though he already knows how this little talk will end.

There's no way that Hashirama won't let the woman join their village. She was the one that pushed him to talking to Madara again, he'd confided with the Uchiha one night after a hard day of building the village. That was the first and last time that Senju Hashirama had ever met the Golden Ghost, until now.

A part of Madara had been, pleased. Pleased that he was the one who had seen her to most, who had spoken to her. Who had learnt even the slightest bit of her history. An Uzumaki mother, it was no wonder her chakra was so fearsome, even without the beast sealed within her.

No doubt the Kyūbi had only bolstered her reserves.

"Yeah! That'd be great! If you hadn't spoken with me, maybe none of this would have happened."

Hashirama pauses, looking around the bare bones of their village with an undeniable fondness flickering in his eyes.

Madara remembers the scorn, the horrified whispers, when he announced to the clan that they would be joining the Senju to create a village, that there would be no more fighting.

Not even six months after Tajima's death, and he was already running the clan into the ground, so they whispered.

But none dared to openly challenge him.

Izuna had cornered him at one point, asking why. The hatred his brother held for the Senju was strong. But even he had understood when Madara spoke of his childhood dream, of the two boys that met at a river wishing for peace, for a world where children didn't have to die on bloodied battlefields.

It wasn't until three days ago, when a Uchiha boy, a toddler really, ran by with another boy, a Senju, and looked so carefree, that Izuna had really understood.

He'd seen the moment his brother had realized what he was aiming for, and ever since, Izuna has supported him.

The Golden Ghost grins, rocking back on her heels and her eyes dart slightly between the two of them, lip working back and forth between her teeth.

It was a gesture he'd seen Izuna complete a multitude of times, but he can't seem to lift his eyes from his lips, not until Hashirama elbows him in the side.

"Well? Think we can let her in?"

He's grinning, the scoundrel, and probably coming to incorrect conclusions. That's what Hashirama did, jumped in feet first, fearless of the consequences, and probably not even wondering if it was water or mud he was about to land in.

That idiot.

"Maybe the other clans will start taking this village seriously then."

It was as close to acceptance as he could voice right now.

He was no longer that blushing sixteen year old, drunk off a pitiful amount, and not quite sure what to make of the pretty blonde before him. He could admit she was pretty now, he wasn't one to lie to himself. He'd had a crush on her, lusted after her, it wasn't too much of a surprise now that he knew himself.

She was different, a strong woman stronger than any he'd ever seen before. She stood up for not only herself, but her way of life.

For peace.

She did not bend, she did not yield, and it appealed to him.

He looked down on women, considered them weak. Because when they stood beside him, they were.

But she wasn't. This woman, with her prowess on the battlefield and her iron willpower and her desire for peace, was unlike any of the females his father had been attempting to throw at him during the last few years of his life.

It shouldn't be surprising he was attracted to something so new. And she was new, the whole idea of her was new.

"So, erm, what's your name?"

Madara blinks.

Come to think of it, he's never actually known her name. She's never introduced herself, her name has never been carried on the whisper of rumours. He's heard her call the demon fox she claims a friend 'Kurama', but he had never heard her speak her own name.

The blonde smiles sheepishly, rubbing nervously at the back of her head and glances between the two of them.

"Heh, sorry about that. Namikaze Naruto, at your service."

Namikaze Naruto. He's never heard of a 'Namikaze' clan before, but her name is fitting.

Maelstrom. A powerful circular current of water that was usually the result of conflicting tides. A whirlpool of extraordinary power.

She had been born into a world were two sides were constantly conflicted. And she'd become strong from it. Had become a force to be reckoned with.

"Nice to meet you Naruto-chan!"

Hashirama chirps from beside him, clapping Madara on the shoulder with enough force he almost stumbled.

Damn that man for being the tallest of two of them. He really shouldn't have been, he had no idea how to handle that much height, Madara had seen him walk into the sign a Senju blacksmith had just put up outside his new shop only yesterday.

The idiot.

"I'm sure Madara can show you to a tent- er, we haven't quite gotten all the buildings up yet."

Naruto shrugs, still smiling as her eyes turn towards him.

"Sure, s'not like I haven't been living in a tent for the past six years."

Turning on heel so he didn't have to look at the woman's face any longer, Madara takes off down the street in a series of lengthy strides, only offering Hashirama's parting goodbye a slow wave with one gloved hand.

He can feel the tightly pack bundle of chakra that is Namikaze Naruto walking near him, not quite beside him but not quite behind either.

And he thinks maybe, just maybe, he'll get through this one meeting without any surprises.

 

 

That lasts up until they pass by the light scattering of buildings which are a tentatively planned clan district.

Because suddenly two small hands grasp his wrist and forcibly twirl him around at a speed that he can barely react too. Nevertheless, he had a kunai in hand by the time his back meets the wall.

Only, lips meet his before he can even consider attacking the woman.

Both of her hands are grasping at his face, short fingernails only digging into the skin of his cheeks ever so slightly and her eyes are closed, he notices.

She's kissing him, kissing him like this is what she has been waiting for since appearing in the village and Madara, he just gives in.

His hands snatch at her hips, pulling her closer as he presses his lips back against hers, hungry, wanting to continue chasing the explosions of lust and excitement that burn in his chest.

And he wants it all.

He wants everything that Namikaze Naruto is willing to give and more, because she's the strangest creature he's ever seen, new and exquisite and he's starving, emotions burning something fierce in his chest, blazing bright and hot and as wild as the girl that he holds tight to.

She growls, actually growls against his lips, pressing her chest to his and her back is curving forwards under the effort.

One hand has left his face to get tangled in his hair, the other has snaked its way down his side and is now dipping beneath his thick winter shirt, cold fingertips brushing up against his abdominals and exploring the scarred flesh that covers his ribs.

Madara breaks the contact first taking in a desperately needed gasp of oxygen, before he returns Naruto's face back to his, their noses colliding in his haste and the blonde lets out a salacious chuckle at the unexpected contact.

She sucks on his lip as their teeth clash, the hand in his hair tightening as his own press her closer, one grasping at those blonde locks and tilting her head back so he has access to her neck and jaw.

"You're a bastard," she whispers, but it's a fond thing, spoken with affection he's never heard a woman use before in public. Wives were to be seen, not heard, and it wasn't right for a woman to express her affection so openly among people.

But Naruto clearly doesn't care, rocking her hips against his as he sucks on the soft flesh of her neck, right above a pulse point.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she hisses almost breathless and shockingly close to a moan.

He loves it.

"You were suppose to be awful, you were suppose to be inhuman. You weren't suppose to burn so bright," she pushes his head back and away as she says this, instead attacking his own neck in return, a huff of amused annoyance leaving her lips when his hair gets in the way.

It wasn't as if she herself didn't have just as much of the stuff.

He dares to skim a hand over the small of her back, beneath the thick fabric of her shirt now that the cloak she wears has been thrown open, but she doesn't shy away as women have always done in the past, timid and unwilling to show they lusted just as hard as men.

No, Naruto pushes into his touch for a few seconds, before she once again rocks her hips against his.

This time, it is he who growls at her, and instead of the horrified looks any other woman would give, she merely glances up at him playfully before nipping harder at his neck.

Were they left alone, left uninterrupted, Madara was pretty certain they'd never have even made it to the tents. That he'd have just taken her, then and there.

Or Naruto would have taken him.

Perhaps they'd have taken each other.

 

 

But it's not to be, because Izuna and Tobirama round the corner, talking of the academy they're going to be building, and they both just freeze.

Eyes round and mouths open, the both of them look scandalized at the sight before them.

Naruto doesn't even look the slightest bit regretful.

Instead, she looks at them over her shoulder, dares to lick the column of his neck all the way up to his jawline, and then she disappears, leaping up onto the rooftops with a wild laugh as she goes.

Madara doesn't even spare his brother and his companion a glance, he just takes off after her.

He's got a feeling that, even though they'd probably never have to have another meeting now that she was in the village to stay, he would be chasing her for all the years that they'd know one another.

And if the prize was the same every time one of them caught the other like that, well, he'd not have anything to complain about for a very, very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea is MadaraxNaruto has a ship name and until I find out, I christen this 'RamenSpots'


End file.
